


Be Good, Alright?

by Taliax



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Family, Friendship, Frisk (Undertale) Is a Sweetheart, Gen, Light Angst, Narrator Chara (Undertale), Nonbinary Chara (Undertale), Nonbinary Frisk (Undertale), Parent Toriel (Undertale), Slice of Life, The Ruins (Undertale), Verbal Frisk (Undertale), eventual sans/toriel - Freeform, frisk has a flirting problem
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:13:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28520691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taliax/pseuds/Taliax
Summary: Frisk decides to stay with Toriel in the Ruins, despite Flowey's constant nagging.  There are ghosts in the halls and skeletons in the basement, but as long as they're with their mom, everything will be alright.
Relationships: Chara & Frisk (Undertale), Flowey & Frisk (Undertale), Frisk & Toriel (Undertale)
Comments: 48
Kudos: 63





	1. Worms

**Author's Note:**

> Should I be starting another multichapter? My other wips say no but my heart says yes. This first chapter is pretty short but basically this is going to be a series of Frisk living with Toriel in the Ruins, minor Soriel shipping later, probably some appearances from Nabstablook because I love him... yeah this is just self-indulgent friendship and family content with a side of angst because you really can't escape that in Undertale lol
> 
> Warnings: alluded probable child neglect/abuse from Frisks' human family.
> 
> hope you enjoy!!
> 
> EDIT: @harmonytre drew art for this chapter!! you can see it at the bottom of the chapter or here: https://a-conveniently-shaped-lamp.tumblr.com/post/639298819217047552/so-uhhhhh-its-only-one-chapter-so-far-but-i-love

"She's going to eat you."

Frisk didn't turn around. This wasn't the first time Flowey had popped out of the ground to tell lies about Mom. They kept digging in the dirt—careful not to uproot any of the non-talking flowers—until they found another worm for their bucket.

"What kind of mom sends a kid out to dig for worms, anyway? Isn't she supposed to be, I don't know, fattening you up with pie and singing you lullabies?"

"Mom only sings lullabies before bed. And I'm already fat, so if she wanted to eat me, she would have." Oh, another worm. This one was long and extra wiggly. Frisk almost felt bad for trapping it in the bucket, but it would bring in at least three gold pieces when they traded it to the spiders. Frisk tried not to think too much about what would happen to it after that.

"Eh, I guess you are kind of chubby. Huh. Maybe she wants you to get some muscle first."

"Then she wouldn't be giving me pie." Frisk brushed their hands off on their shorts, leaving dark brown stains. Oops. Hopefully Mom wouldn't be too upset about that.

"Ugh. Whatever. You're annoying, you know that?"

Frisk shrugged. Flowey got annoyed a lot. It didn't stop him from coming to talk to them most times they were alone.

"You want a worm?" They held one out from their bucket. "You can trade it for something. The spiders are selling croissants today."

Flowey snorted. "I don't need your pity. I can catch my own worms."

Flowey didn't have hands. Or arms. But Frisk wasn't rude enough to point that out.

"Mom's gonna teach me how to cook snails when I get home. You can come if you want."

With that, Frisk stood and left the flower patch. Flowey probably wouldn't come. He never came when Frisk invited him, despite claiming that Frisk was the most interesting thing down here.

Frisk thought Toriel was the most interesting person here. It was too bad all the froggits and whimsuns were intimidated by her. They'd never get to learn the best bug-hunting spots, or how it felt to touch fire that didn't burn, or that boss monster hugs were the best in the world.

(Frisk didn't have many other hugs to compare it to, but they were still sure they were right.)

"Snails. I thought humans hated snails…" Flowey’s mutter echoed from behind them.

Frisk stiffened. "You know other humans?"

That thought… didn’t fill them with determination. Frisk didn’t know why. They were human. Everyone they used to know was human. 

(No one they used to know had come for them.)

Flowey's petals stood up straight. It was a pretty funny sight, but they didn’t feel like laughing.

"Where'd you get that idea?"

Frisk shrugged again. Maybe they had read too much into things.

But suddenly, Flowey burrowed in front of them, then popped out of the ground with that creepy grin.

"I _do_ know a human, actually. Or I did… until Toriel…" He mimicked Mom's face. 

They hated when he did that. They squeezed their eyes shut, knowing whatever came next would be scary.

" _Cooked them with snails and ate them!"_

Frisk waited a beat to open their eyes. Then they walked past without a word.

"Oh, come on! I nailed the voice on that one! Aren't you even a little scared?"

Flowey would get bored and stop if Frisk didn't answer. They navigated the puzzles and switches to head towards Home.

"Ugh. Fine! Stay here with your… 'Mom.' You'll get bored of her eventually. Just like I did."

They would just ignore him. Even if his words were like bullets in their back.

Frisk wasn't like Flowey. They liked to explore, sure, and the Ruins _were_ small… but that didn't mean they'd get bored.

They had a Mom who loved them. And that was more than they could've ever hoped for.


	2. Snails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toriel and Frisk cook snail casserole together.

Mom smiled from where she stood next to Frisk's step stool. Her sleeves were pushed back to her elbows, her paws slathered in slime. The shelled snails and diced potatoes looked like lumpy jello in the glass dish on the counter.

Poor snails. Napstablook had said that they lived a full and happy life though. They got to race when they wanted to, and they had plenty of friends. 

Frisk hoped they could visit the snail races one day.

"Now is the fun part: baking the casserole," Mom said. "You will not be able to use fire magic yourself, but that is alright. I will be here to provide that service whenever you need it." 

Frisk nodded. They'd lived with Mom for a month now, and she was always home in time for dinner. She was usually home in general, unless she was at the Ruins’ small grocery store, or restocking the bowl of monster candy, or tending the flowers where Frisk had first fallen. All places that Frisk could find her even if that stray dog ran off with her phone again.

She wasn’t going to leave them. She _wasn’t._

“Keep your hands clear, my child. This fire may burn.”

Frisk hugged themself as a tiny ball of fire lit in Mom’s palm. It glowed a soft orange, with a spark of white at the very center.

“It’s beautiful,” Frisk said, even though they’d seen Mom’s magic dozens of times by now. Then they winked. “Just like you.”

Mom gave them a funny look. “You are not trying to flirt with me again, are you?”

“...No?” Frisk grinned sheepishly. They always forgot that that wasn’t a normal way to interact with monsters. ...Maybe it wasn’t a normal way to interact with anyone, and their old mom had been the weird one. They’d never know now.

Either way, Mom _was_ beautiful. So there.

She chuckled. “Seriously, I wonder who taught you before you… well. I suppose I am lucky that you settled for living with an old lady like me instead of charming every human on the surface.”

She ruffled Frisk’s hair with the hand that wasn’t holding fire. But it _was_ still sticky with snail slime.

Mom’s eyes widened. “I—oh dear.” 

They stared at each other for a second. Then Frisk burst out laughing. Mom joined in a moment later, the fire in her other palm flickering out.

“I have certainly made a mess, haven’t I?” she said after catching her breath.

“It’s okay, Mom. I can get a bath later. You still have to finish the casserole.”

Mom bit her lip, her bottom fangs poking out. “Alright. But you _will_ clean up afterwards. We will not have a repeat of the Cider Incident.”

Frisk giggled. The Cider Incident hadn’t been that bad. The spiders had been a little clumsy bringing the cider down the web, and it had spilled in Frisk’s hair. It hadn’t bothered them, but it had made a sticky, smelly mess on their pillow when they’d taken a nap later that day.

They had expected Mom to be mad. Maybe even make them stay outside, or leave forever. But instead, after just a light scolding, she had gently washed the sticky liquid from their hair.

(That was the first time that they called Toriel “Mom.”)

She washed her hands, and then fire sprung to life in them again. She passed her hand over the casserole dish, crisping the top of the gray-green concoction. It looked disgusting.

Frisk couldn’t wait to try it.

“What do you think, my child?” She almost sounded embarrassed. “It still needs to cool, but we can add the finishing touches. Which would you prefer for the topping? Mushrooms, or marshmallows?”

“Mushrooms,” they answered without missing a beat, though they felt a strange pang of… something. Disappointment? Why would they be disappointed? They loved mushrooms.

“You are the first child I have met who is eager to eat their vegetables.” Mom chuckled while fetching the mushrooms from the refrigerator. “Have I been feeding you too many sweets? I would not have you think I desire to ‘fatten you up.’”

Frisk blinked. Had Flowey…? No, Flowey never appeared around Mom.

“I am only teasing, my child. Some of the other children who fell here… they accused me of that. I suppose it is a rather dark joke. I should stick to puns...” She smiled sadly before retrieving a knife from the secret drawer above the stove. Too high for Frisk to reach. “Oh, I am rambling again. Rest assured that you may have as many vegetables as you wish. The vegetoids will be happy to have the extra business.”

“I know you wouldn’t do anything like that,” they said. It had been one of Flowey’s worse lies. Humans probably didn’t taste anything like snails.

“Thank you for having such confidence in me.” Mom chuckled. She spread the mushrooms across the counter and began cutting them into even slices.

Frisk scooted their step stool closer. “Can I help?”

Mom paused, frowning at the knife in her paw. “I suppose you should practice while I am here to assist you. But be careful, it is very sharp.”

“I know.”

Mom reluctantly passed over the knife, handle-first. Frisk’s fingers closed around it.

They were filled with… something. Not determination.

_Finally._

Their eyes widened, their grip weakening on the knife. That thought—that _didn’t feel like them._

“Oh!” Mom caught the knife as it slipped from their hand. “My child, are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Frisk shook their head quickly, not trusting themself to speak. Their hands still trembled like they’d been shocked. What… what _was_ that?

“I am sorry. I should not have… I will handle the mushrooms. If you would like to take a break—”

“No,” they said hoarsely. They didn’t want to be alone right now. Just in case. “I’m okay. I’ll watch.”

Mom’s brow was still furrowed, but she nodded. “Very well. Your moral support is appreciated.”

They cracked a smile at that. “I can be great moral support. Give me an M! Give me a U! Give me an… um…”

“S?”

“Yeah!”

She laughed again, and it was like breaking a spell. Everything was okay. They could pretend the weird voice had been a bad dream.

There was nothing wrong with them. Nothing that would make Mom scared or mad. They could be good. 

They _would_ be good.

Starting by paying attention to Mom’s lesson on monster food. Mushrooms were “physical food,” so humans could eat them without getting hurt, but monsters had to use magic on them first.

“A ‘seed’ of magic is enough to treat something that already resembles food. Other inedible objects can become monster food if prepared with the proper levels of magic, but typically that is a waste. It would cost more magic than you would gain back by consuming it.”

They nodded along, trying to commit all her words to memory. This wasn’t part of their normal schoolwork, but they wanted to be prepared in case of a test anyway.

“My fire magic is well suited for treating food. Some other monsters have a more difficult time. It would be a _treat_ if they would allow me to treat them to our cooking.”

Frisk giggled. Maybe one day someone would accept their invitation to dinner with Mom. Napstablook probably would have, except they could only eat ghost food. Ghost food was made out of pure magic and memories, Mom had said. She couldn’t use the type of magic needed to make it.

A small flame lit at the tip of her claw. She gently prodded the center of the sliced mushrooms. Instead of charring the vegetables, though, a little ring of light expanded outwards and covered them.

“There. That is the ‘seed’ technique for cooking. Though, I suppose you will not be able to use that either… but it is no matter! If you ever cook something for me or other monsters, I can treat it for you.”

Frisk wanted so badly to cook for Mom. To repay her just a little bit for everything she’d done for them. But that would be really hard if they couldn’t even pick up a knife.

Still, they nodded and asked a question that had been on their mind. “What happens if you eat food that isn’t magic?”

“Ah. That is… not pretty. You know how human food passes through your digestive tract, correct?”

Frisk didn’t know much about that, but they nodded anyway.

“Monsters do not have that. We are made of magic and dust.”

Frisk’s brow scrunched. “You don’t feel like you’re made of dust. You feel soft and fuzzy.”

“That is the form my magic gives me.” Mom smiled. “Do not worry. I will teach you more about monster biology later. Just know that we cannot excrete physical waste like you do. So it must come back up, and it makes us very very sick.”

“Physical... waste…?”

“Ah. I believe the simpler term is, um, ‘poop.’”

Frisk held back the laughter for half a second before it came bursting out.

“Yes, ha ha, it is very funny.” She flicked them in the forehead. “You knew what I was talking about, didn’t you?”

“Maaaaybe.”

She snorted and shook her head. “You are a very interesting child. My… someone I know would have liked you.”

After a wistful look, she scooped up the mushrooms and sprinkled them across the snail casserole. Frisk’s stomach growled. 

“Ha! Is this making you hungry? Most children I have met did not care for snails. I hope it is as delicious as it looks.”

It didn’t look delicious at all, but Frisk had been curious about Mom’s snail food for weeks now. It couldn’t be worse than some of the meals they’d prepared for themself on the surface.

“Will you set the table, my child? I will prepare our plates.”

They nodded and hopped down from the step stool. They knew where the forks and cups were, and they took out the jug of spider cider for the special occasion. They placed napkins and forks in the proper places, poured the cider, and then scrambled onto their tall chair.

“Oh, we are feeling fancy!” Mom said when she returned with the plates and saw the tall glasses filled to the brim with cider. “You… certainly gave us a lot of cider.”

They shrugged, suddenly embarrassed. “It’s… more efficient that way…?”

The excuse felt familiar, though they really didn’t know why they’d filled the glasses so high. It would probably spill and make a mess. They must have gotten too excited.

Mom gave them a funny look. “That’s… hmm.”

What did that mean? Was she upset? Had they ruined everything with two stupid glasses of cider?

“It is funny… I used to know someone else who said the same thing,” Mom finally explained, though she still looked a little unsettled. 

She used to know a lot of people, it sounded like. She was hundreds of years old, so it made sense.

And Frisk… Frisk was just nine. They couldn’t make up for a lifetime of lost friends and children. They could barely do anything right at all. What if… what if they weren’t good enough, and…

“Are you going to try the casserole? Or are you waiting for me to take the first bite?” she asked. Whatever worry she’d felt seemed to be gone.

Pushing back their own fears, they dug into the casserole.

It was… slimy. And kind of chewy. The snails themselves didn’t seem to have much of a flavor, but the spices mom had mixed in tasted good. Exciting, different. Mom’s cooking was always like that, mixing flavors that no humans would think to try. It had been weird at first, but they wouldn’t have it any other way.

“‘S good,” they said with their mouth full.

She chuckled. “Thank you, my child. I hope it will cur- _snail_ your appetite.”

It wasn’t a great pun, but they laughed anyway. Just being here with Mom, having someone to laugh with… it was still like a dream.

Frisk took a careful sip of their overflowing cider, and hoped that they wouldn’t wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art is by me, link here: https://taliaxlatiart.tumblr.com/post/639724200017444865/a-conveniently-shaped-lamp-snooking-snail


	3. Voice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk meets the voice who likes knives.

_ It’s you! _

Frisk squinted at the mirror. It _was_ them. Tan skin, narrow brown eyes, dark and messy hair. No matter how carefully Mom dried it with fire magic, it poofed out every which way. They were wearing a fresh sweater, one Mom had knitted herself. In the monster tradition, it had stripes across the chest. This time they were gold and purple.

They blinked, half expecting the reflection to shift when they reopened their eyes.

_ Still just you, Frisk. _

They jumped. That voice again. Well, it wasn’t a _voice,_ exactly. Frisk couldn’t hear it out loud. But the thoughts were so clear, they might as well have.

There were plenty of monsters that didn’t talk like humans. The froggits’ magic translated their ribbits into words Frisk could understand. Moldsmals communicated through interpretive dance. Maybe… maybe this was just another monster. One who had been following them around. Invisibly. And who really liked knives.

Well. It would be rude to ignore them, right?

“Hello?” Frisk said quietly, still looking into the mirror. Maybe an invisible monster would still have a reflection. “Can you hear me?”

…

They felt like they were being watched. Maybe the monster was shy?

“I don’t want to fight. I just want to meet you.”

(And to know that they weren’t crazy. That would be nice too.)

…

“Please?”

…

…

... _Don’t you have anything better to do?_

They grinned. There _was_ someone there! They still couldn’t see them, but they’d answered!

“Hi! My name’s Frisk. What’s your name?”

... _Why not? My name is Chara. Chara Dreemurr._

“Nice to meet you, Chara!”

Mom’s bedroom door creaked. Her head poked out, one hand cupping the doorframe.

“Frisk? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah! I was just talking to—”

_ DON’T. _

They shuddered with the force of the command. “Um. Myself?”

Mom’s eyes looked sad. “Oh. I am sorry, my child. It is awfully lonely in this house, is it not? I will join you for a bedtime story shortly.”

“It’s okay. I’m not lonely. I was just having fun.” 

They weren’t lonely. Mom made this house warmer than anywhere Frisk had lived on the surface.

And with Chara to talk to, Frisk doubted they could feel very alone anyway.

“Ah. You are a very independent child. I should not worry so much… still, let me know when you are ready for bed. I will be writing in my journal for just a bit longer.”

They shared a smile, and then Mom disappeared back into her room.

Frisk’s eyes flickered back to the mirror. Still just them.

“Why didn’t you want me to talk to Mom?” they asked quietly.

_ … _

Had they scared them off? Maybe they really were shy.

_ I am not shy,  _ the voice returned. They sounded a bit grumpy. _I am protecting you, Frisk. Do you really think that Toriel would believe you?_

“...What?”

_ Think about it. You hear a voice in your head. No one else can hear or see me. I might as well not exist.  _

“Why can’t you just talk to her too?” It didn’t make any sense. Frisk _wasn’t_ crazy… were they?

A surge of emotion came from Chara. Something like... longing?

_ It doesn’t matter. I can’t. And it is better that she does not suspect you are weak. Just continue to be good. That is what you want, isn’t it? _

“Y-yeah…” Frisk shivered.

_ Good. Because if you don’t… well. I am not sure how much mercy Toriel would show… _

The voice retreated, and so did the feeling of being watched. It wasn’t completely gone, though. There was still a heaviness in the back of their mind… but that had been there ever since they’d fallen down, hadn’t it? Had Chara… been watching them all this time?

That was okay. They were a little weird, but they could still be friends.

And Frisk could prove that Mom wasn’t like the people Frisk used to know. She _would_ show mercy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect Chara to show up this early, but here we go lol.


	4. Hide-and-Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk and Flowey play hide-and-seek in the city. Chara and Flowey have the same question for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments so far! Here's another short chapter that should answer a few questions. Next chapter should have Toriel again :)

“I don’t like this game,” Frisk mumbled. They didn’t like mumbling—their old parents found disrespectful. But they couldn’t let Flowey overhear them from their hiding place under a table in an abandoned restaurant.

_ Everyone likes hide-and-seek. Don’t be a baby,  _ Chara said.  _And you don’t need to speak out loud. I can hear your thoughts just fine._

Huh. So some monsters _could_ read minds.

(Despite being invisible, it felt like Chara was rolling their eyes.)

“I—” Frisk began before clamping their mouth shut. _I still don’t like this,_ they thought as loud as they could. _Flowey’s taking too long. What if he doesn’t find us?_

_ You’ve heard him. He thinks you’re “interesting.” He’ll annoy you forever if you don’t get rid of him. _

Flowey wasn’t annoying. Not really. He could be scary, and rude, and they still didn’t like how he talked about Mom. But he was one of the few monsters who told interesting stories and would play games with them.

Even if that game was dumb hide-and-seek.

They would’ve just picked a lame hiding spot, like the top of one of Home’s crumbling roofs, but Chara wouldn’t have that. The invisible monster wanted them to  _win._

Sitting alone in the dark didn’t feel like winning.

_ Geez. You really are a baby. _

_ I’m nine,  _ Frisk thought sullenly. They were old enough to ride the bus by themself. Old enough to cook their own dinners, even if they didn’t taste so good. Old enough to be left… and left… and left…

They wiped their damp eyes. Chara was strangely silent. They weren’t… leaving too, were they? Frisk wasn’t even good enough for a—

_ I’m here.  _ Chara’s mind-voice felt quieter than usual.  _I’m not going anywhere, Frisk._

Frisk shivered, wrapping their arms around themself. “Th-thanks.”

A piece of the stone wall crumbled near them, making them jump. Then a petaly head popped out of the ground next to the table leg.

“Ha! Found you, idiot!” 

Frisk flinched. Stupid. Flinching always made them hurt worse. It was safer to not show fear… to keep their expression neutral, not show anything at all…

“Golly, you don’t look so good! That upset that I won, huh? Well, you’ll have to do better next time.” Flowey inched forward, his stem slithering through the cracked tile floor like a snake, until his face was right next to theirs. _“Or…_ you could always do what I’ve been telling you. What you’ve been resisting all this time…”

(The scent of this ancient city… it filled them with determination.)

Frisk closed their eyes. Took a deep breath.

When they opened them again, they were smiling.

“It’s okay. You win, Flowey. You’re really good at this game.”

Flowey blinked. “Really? That’s it?”

Frisk stood and dusted themself off. The cavern’s ambient violet light glowed from the empty doorframe. They wove through the maze of empty tables towards it.

“Come _on!_ You’re the monarch of this world. You can reshape time, purely by your own determination! And you still. Won’t. _Reset!?”_

Frisk shrugged, breathing in the relatively fresh air. No breeze blew through Old Home, but water dripped from stalactites up above in some places. They stood under one of those spots right now.

“I don’t get it. You can do anything! Anything you want! There are no consequences! Why are you still  _here?”_

Flowey lost his temper a lot, but this sounded different. Almost like when they’d first met, before Mom had saved them. Flowey hadn’t tried to attack them with “friendliness pellets” since then. 

Frisk didn’t know what would happen if he did. They’d die, probably. Unless Mom was fast enough, but they knew she was cleaning the kitchen today. 

If he really wanted them to “reset”... killing them would be the easiest way, wouldn’t it?

_ He’s not that stupid,  _ Chara said.  _He knows you’ll remember. You’ll stop playing with him… or just put him out of his misery._

That made sense. Even if they would never do what Chara implied, Flowey didn’t know that. He still thought the world was “kill or be killed.” 

He really should come to dinner with them and Mom. That would have to change his mind.

“Are you as stupid as you look? I asked you a question, and you’re sitting there like you’re braindead.”

Oops. It was easy to get lost in thought with Chara.

_ He’s got a point,  _ Chara said, their voice curious. _Why not reset? We can do anything you want. Anything you can imagine._

Well, that was an easy question.

“I already have what I want.”

They stuck their hands in their pockets and wandered back towards their house. Mom could probably use some help cleaning.


	5. Hot Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk breaks something important. Toriel lets them know what's _really_ important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based on a true story lol (but this version is nicer)

_ CRASH. _

A blink of shock, and then tears welled in their eyes. Not from pain. The ceramic shards of Mom’s favorite mug hadn’t cut into their bare feet.

But she was going to be so  _mad._

Their hands shook, stopping them from picking up the mess right away. But they had to do _something._ Standing here, crying… that was only going to make things worse.

_ Don’t be stupid. She’s not going to hurt you over a cup,  _ Chara said, though they sounded angry too.  _Even if it’s the special one that I…_

They trailed off, which only made Frisk more curious. The cup _was_ special—it was shaped like a snail, and lumpy enough that it was probably molded by hand. Or paw. It was always the first one Mom used when it was clean.

And now it was in a thousand pieces all over the floor.

“My child! Are you al—” Mom froze in the kitchen entrance. Her nightgown hung off her loosely, making her look like a ghost. But she didn’t snarl, or shout, or anything Frisk’s old parents might have. “Oh…”

“I’m so, so s-sorry…” Frisk barely choked out. Their hands clenched and unclenched at their sides, but they couldn’t run away from their mess. They’d just end up stepping on the shards and making everything worse.

“Frisk, it is alright… let me just…” Mom frowned down at the broken pieces between them, like she could scare the ceramic bits away with just a glare.

They gulped. At least she wasn’t glaring at _them_ like that…

“I will be right back with a broom. Do not move, alright?”

The gulped and nodded. Not moving. They could do that.

_ You can still breathe, dummy. _

Right.  _Thanks, Chara._

They felt like they were rolling their eyes. They did that a lot, but they still helped anyway.

Mom returned quickly and started sweeping the broken pieces into a dustpan. As soon as the bulk of it was cleared, she swept Frisk up into a tight hug.

“I am so glad you are alright. You could have easily cut your feet.”

Frisk’s head spun, and not just because Mom was squeezing the air out of them. Her favorite cup was broken forever… and she was still just worried about  _them?_

_ That’s what moms are supposed to be like,  _ Chara reminded them.  _You’re lucky you get to have her._

Frisk squeezed their eyes shut, and the last few tears dripped onto Mom’s shoulder as they hugged her back.

They _were_ lucky. Luckier than they could ever say.

“I’m still sorry,” they apologized again, out of habit. “I just wanted to make you some hot ch-chocolate before bed…”

Mom paused, pulling back from them just enough to see their eyes. “That was very thoughtful of you, my child. What if we made hot chocolate together instead? I can reach the high cupboard more easily.”

Frisk’s face heated. They’d wanted to do it themself. To prove they still could, that they could be helpful, too. But instead they’d just made things worse.

“That… sounds good,” they said quietly.

Mom ruffled their hair and smiled. “Why don’t you fetch us a pot while I finish cleaning this?”

They nodded eagerly. The pots were under the sink, a much easier place to reach. They couldn’t mess that up.

By the time Mom was done cleaning, the only evidence that anything had broken was a small chip in the tile floor. 

_ Told you. You’d have to mess up way worse than that to upset her. _

Chara’s voice sounded… like they regretted something. It didn’t make sense.

_ Do you know Mom?  _ They asked.  _You sound like you do. But she can’t hear you, or see you, or smell you. How would you make her upset?_

A sad laugh echoed through them, turning the first sip of hot chocolate bitter.

_ You wouldn’t understand. You’re too good at being good. _

Frisk’s eyebrows scrunched, and Mom looked up at them curiously.

“Is something the matter? The chocolate is not _too_ hot, is it?”

They shook their head and took another big gulp. It was the perfect temperature, thanks to Mom’s careful magic. And when they actually paid attention to the flavor, it exploded with sweetness in their mouth. 

“It’s _amazing_.”

No hot chocolate had ever tasted this good. Maybe it was because Mom knew the perfect ratio of chocolate powder to milk. Or maybe because it was made with love.

_ Ugh. You’re sappier than…  _

_ Who?  _ Frisk asked when Chara held back again. They were being weird today. Why would they keep holding back from the only person they could talk to? 

(Frisk was still a little convinced they were shy.)

_ It’s none of your business. As for why the chocolate tastes better, there is a simple explanation. You are acquiring my tastes. _

Huh. That answered one question, but brought up a bunch of others. Frisk wouldn’t ask, though—Chara only talked so formally when they were feeling nervous. It would be rude to push them.

With a quick huff, Chara’s presence faded again. On the next warm sip, the chocolate tasted like plain old sugary liquid. Chara could’ve at least stayed until they finished their cup.

_...Oh, whatever. Since you’re hopeless without me. _

Frisk smiled, and downed the rest of their mug eagerly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are very appreciated!!!


	6. Lying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chara tells Frisk what's in the basement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a really short chapter. Hope you enjoy anyway :)
> 
> In other news I made a Toriel PMV if anyone wants to watch it -> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4mJGWz5l4Bw

Frisk hung their legs over the edge of the stairs, resting their forehead between the bars. The only view was of the dark basement they weren't allowed into. 

(They'd tried. Mom said it was dangerous, or they'd catch a cold, or they should read a book.)

_ I don't know why she's so worried about that. It's not like there's anything down there,  _ Chara mused.

Frisk sat up straighter. Their legs stopped swinging.

"Wait. You know what's in the basement? Why didn't you say anything?"

_ Shut up. You're not supposed to talk to me out loud, remember? You'll sound stupid. _

_ Right…  _ Frisk blushed.  _But you know what's down there?_

_ Well, sort of. Everything's a little different than I remember. But I'm pretty sure it's just the exit to the Ruins. _

"The  _what?"_

"Frisk? Are you alright, my child?" Mom called from the living room. She was sitting in her big chair, preparing tomorrow’s lesson. She was going to teach Frisk about how plants grew underground.

"Just playing again!" They called back. 

Lying to Mom always made their stomach churn. Not because they were afraid of her finding out, not like they used to be. It just felt  _wrong._

But… Mom lied to them too, hadn’t she? If Chara was right…

_ She didn’t lie,  _ Chara insisted. _You never asked her what was down there._

That was true. Frisk never asked how to leave the Ruins, either. They’d thought about it, but… what would be the point? They weren’t going home. 

This _was_ home.

_ You’re a strange kid, Frisk. _

Their eyebrows furrowed.  _What do you mean?_

_ You’re curious. You want to read all of Mom’s books. You poked through her room. You explored every inch of the Ruins. And yet you still refuse to look farther. _

Frisk blinked. Most of that wasn’t surprising, coming from one of the two people who was always wondering why they didn’t “reset.” But one thing Chara had said was new.

They’d called Toriel “Mom.”

Their presence recoiled at the thought.

_ Chara? _

No response. It made Frisk nervous. If “Chara” thought of Toriel as Mom too, what if they _were_ just a voice in Frisk’s head? They didn’t seem like any kind of monster Frisk had met, not even a ghost like Napstablook.

But Chara didn’t return to ease their worries.

And staring down into the darkness, Frisk felt terribly, dreadfully alone.


	7. Water Sausage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toriel teaches Frisk how to garden, but neither of them are particularly good at it. Frisk learns about someone who was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter brought to you by Plant Corndog Delight

“I believe you will have quite the green thumb, my child,” Mom said while crouching next to Frisk’s small plot in the garden. They were having a hands-on lesson today, since books could only teach so much about how to grow plants. 

“But nothing’s even growing yet.” Frisk frowned. All they’d done was dig a little hole and press some seeds into the cold soil.

Water sausage seeds. Mom said they could actually be quite tasty if they were cooked right. The ones Mom kept in the vases inside had dried out ages ago, and they tasted terrible. (Plus Mom didn’t like it when they ate her decorations.)

Anyway, Frisk was going to have the chance to eat a fresh one—if it actually _grew._

Mom chuckled. “Clearly you do not have a light blue soul…”

“Huh?”

“Nothing, little one. I am only teasing. Surely plants still take time to grow on the surface, do they not?”

They dragged their stick through the dirt, making swirling patterns. “I guess.”

Toriel frowned, then shuffled so she was kneeling across from them.

“Is something the matter? Have you exerted yourself too much today? Would you like some water?”

They shook their head quickly. Sometimes it seemed like Mom didn’t notice anything, and then sometimes she noticed too much.

Chara hadn’t come back since last night. It shouldn’t have scared them so much. Chara… wasn’t very nice. And they might not even be real. 

Still, they kept Frisk grounded when their worries spiraled out of control. Chara trusted and respected Mom, no matter what they’d said when they first met. That made them a better influence than Flowey.

Maybe Chara just wanted a mom too. But Frisk had been stupid enough to scare them away.

“My child…?”

“I’m okay.” They forced a smile, though their eyes stung a little. How could they tell Mom that they were upset over a monster who might not even exist? Besides, if they told her, they were sure Chara would never come back.

“I just got some dirt in my eye,” they said more confidently when Mom didn’t look convinced. “I’m good now.”

“Ah. You are always good, are you not?” She smiled fondly and ruffled their hair. Dirt flaked off of her paw pads, but in the garden, there was no rule against getting messy. It was one of Frisk’s favorite things about the place.

“I try to be,” they replied in a not-quite-mumble. Mumbling was rude. But so was bragging.

Besides, they _weren’t_ good. Not really. They’d upset one of their few friends, and then they’d lied about it to Mom. Good people didn’t lie.

Good people didn’t break promises, either. And they’d promised Chara they wouldn’t tell Mom… or, well, close enough to promised.

How could Frisk be good to both of them? It was all so  _confusing._

Playing in the dirt wasn’t confusing. They dug another hole with their fingers and gently placed a worm from their bucket. Worms were good for plants, Mom said. And the spiders wouldn’t eat them here.

“I am not very good at gardening, myself,” Mom said with a soft sigh. 

She looked out over the small stretch of soil. Even outside of Frisk’s section, not much grew. A few hardy sprouts that marked potatoes. Some mushrooms. A little blanket of moss. Two short water sausage stalks. The rest was just hard-packed dirt. 

Was the garden not supposed to look like that?

“Most of what I grow doesn’t last long enough to… well. The potatoes are enough, and the vegetoids are always happy to sell the fruits of their labor.” She chuckled at her pun. “My hus… someone else was always better at making things grow.”

Frisk’s spine straightened. Did Mom almost say…? Would it be rude to ask?

There were so many things they wanted to _know._ Not just about this world—which Mom was always willing to teach them—but about Mom herself. She wasn’t just a silly lady who worried too much, like she’d told them over the phone. She was their mom. Their _real_ family.

She would tell Frisk more if they asked, right?

The thought of knowing more about Mom… it filled them with determination.

“You have a husband?” They asked in a quiet voice.

Mom’s face changed immediately. Harder. Scarier. Frisk flinched back, almost instinctively reached for that spark of determination they’d just felt— 

But then Mom softened again.

“No, my child. It is just me.”

Frisk bit their lip. They were so _close._ And if they really upset Mom… they could go back so it never happened, right? That’s what Chara would tell them to do.

...They hadn’t even thought about going back to bring back Chara. It was hard to wrap their head around the fact that they could “change fate,” or whatever Flowey called it. They still didn’t want to risk messing with that power if they could avoid it.

“ _Did_ you have a husband?” Frisk asked, pushing those thoughts aside. “Is he dead?”

There was probably a better way to ask that. But they weren’t going to go back and find out, even if Mom’s reddish-brown eyes looked steely at the question.

“He might as well be,” she said in a low tone. “I prefer not to think on him. However… it is hard to avoid here.” Her shoulders slumped; her long sleeves dripped into the dirt. “This was his garden. I wish that you could have seen it when he tended this place… it was truly beautiful.”

Frisk swallowed. That was more than they’d ever gotten out of Mom before. She had a husband! Frisk had a dad!

Or… they’d almost had a dad. He was gone, one way or another.

They tightened their grip on their stick.

“What was his name?” They barely dared to ask.

For some reason, that got a laugh out of Mom. She still didn’t sound happy, though.

“I pray you will never have to hear it, innocent one.” She stood, dusted off her paws on her tunic, and extended a hand to Frisk. “Come. There is no more we can do for these typha today.”

Frisk stared at the soil for a long moment before taking Mom’s paw. They wouldn’t pry. They’d gotten more answers than they’d really expected. And she wasn’t mad at them, which was the most important thing.

They cast a last look over their shoulder, but there was nothing to see but dirt. Still, the smell of fresh soil filled them with determination.

_ Asgore. _

The word shocked through them. What was—?

_ Chara!  _ Frisk could barely stop themself from grinning.  _You came back!_

…

_ Chara? _

…

…

_ Toriel’s husband. His name is Asgore. He… he was… _

“Frisk? Am I walking too fast for you? I am sorry, I suppose I still have a boss monster’s stride...” Leaves stopped crunching as Mom paused on the path back to the house. “Would you, um… perhaps… like me to carry you?”

This time, Frisk did grin and nodded eagerly. 

Chara was back. Mom loved them. Everything was going to be okay.

They nestled deep into Mom’s arms, and blocked out Chara’s dread that everything was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Chara is having a bad time.


	8. Hairy Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk flirts with a ghost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! No ship content but Frisk is back to innocently flirting with anything that moves

“Oh… you fell down again…” Napstablook didn’t move from where they laid—hovered?—on top of the leaf pile. “I hope you’re ok…”

“I’m great.” Frisk dusted themself off. The fall didn’t really hurt. The red leaves cushioned their landing, and they were used to falling down holes in the Ruins’ puzzles by now. “Even better since I found you again.” They winked.

“Are you flirting with me again…?”

“Nope. Just complimenting my really cool ghost friend.” They walked over to Napstablook and flopped down next to them, folding their hands over their stomach. “I missed you.”

“Really…? Oh… I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay.” They wished Napstablook was corporeal. The ghost sounded like they could really use a hug. “How have you been? Did you do anything fun while you were gone?”

“Not really… just lied around and felt like garbage…” Napstablook smiled a little. “Oh… and I saw a new episode of my favorite TV show…”

“Cool!” Frisk beamed. They didn’t know the Underground had TV—Mom’s house didn’t have one. “What was it about?”

“Oh… um… this cool robot… his name’s Mettaton… he picks random monsters to get makeovers… and this time it was my scary neighbor…” They paused briefly. “Oh… I’m rambling…”

“Wait, what’s your neighbor’s name? How did the makeover go?” Frisk asked eagerly. It was the most Napstablook had spoken in a while. They didn’t want them to stop now.

“Her name’s… oh… I don’t remember. I’m a terrible neighbor…”

“I’m sure you’re not,” Frisk tried to reassure them.

“That’s nice of you to say…” A soft pink blush colored Napstablook’s cheeks. “Anyway… Mettaton started off by breaking into her house… and eating grapes on her piano… even though he doesn’t have a mouth… oh… and then he gave her a bright pink dress… but I don’t think she liked it…”

“That’s too bad.” Frisk wished they’d seen the episode. It would be nice to actually understand what Napstablook was talking about.

“But then my neighbor’s friend came over… and she, um… saw my neighbor in the dress… and she turned red and fainted… yeah… the episode ended early since Mettaton had to carry her home… oh… I hope she’s alright…”

That was… interesting. Probably better than any of the TV shows that Frisk’s old mom used to leave on while she was at work.

“Do you know where I can get a TV? So I can watch it too?”

“Oh… I don’t know… but you could come to my house, if you want… or not…”

Napstablook didn’t live in the Ruins. Maybe Mom would let them go visit… but probably not.

“I’ll ask Mom if I can,” they said while picking at the hem of their sweater. “What’s it like where you live?”

“Wet… and kind of smelly… you probably wouldn’t like it… oh… forget I said anything…”

Frisk sighed. If only flirting would cheer the ghost up. They were running out of other ideas.

“I don’t care if it smells. I’d still come to see you.”

Napstablook was quiet for a moment.”

“You’re too nice… thanks.”

Frisk blinked. It was one of the first times Napstablook had sort of accepted a compliment.

“You’re welcome.”

_ Yeah, yeah, enough sappy stuff,  _ Chara interrupted. _When are you going to ask them about Asgore?_

Oh. Frisk had been so excited to see Napstablook again, they’d forgotten why they’d been looking for them in the first place.

“So, um. You live outside the Ruins,” Frisk started, suddenly feeling nervous. They were pretty sure that was Chara’s emotions bleeding through this time. “Have you ever met a monster named Asgore?”

Napstablook frowned, his white form flickering. “Oh… I’m bad at names… I don’t know… I’m sorry…”

_ Let me try something. _

Suddenly an image flashed into Frisk’s mind.

“He’s really tall. And furry. Kind of like Mom—Toriel. And he’s got big curved horns.” Frisk mimed the horns above their head.

_ The Underground is pretty big. Don’t get your hopes up. _

Despite that, it was Chara’s hope that beat in their chest. 

Napstablook blinked. “Oh… there’s a big hairy guy who shows up at the farm every month… he’s the only one besides your mom who still buys snails…”

Frisk bolted upright. “That has to be him!”

“Is that a good thing…?”

“Yes!” Frisk stretched their arms out to hug them—but of course, they passed right through. Oops.

“Oh… sorry…”

“It’s okay, Napstablook. Thanks so much.” They flashed their brightest grin.

The ghost blushed again. Maybe flirting would have some effect after all.

“It was nothing… did you want me to tell him something…?”

They blinked. They hadn’t even thought of that. It wasn’t like Asgore would know them. If Mom was right, he might not even _want_ to know them. 

_ He would. He’d love you.  _ Chara’s voice was somehow wistful and bitter at the same time.

_ You’re the one who knows him. Does he know you? Is there something you want to tell him? _

_ No.  _ Chara didn’t elaborate.

“No,” Frisk echoed out loud. “We—I just wanted to know he’s okay. Thanks again.”

“Really, it was nothing…”

“I should probably get home. Mom’s teaching me math today.” Frisk got to their feet, crunching leaves as they did. “You’ll be back soon, right?”

“I guess so… I wouldn’t want to make my friend upset…”

“You won’t.” Since Frisk couldn’t hug them, they settled for blowing them a kiss. “Bye, Napstablook!”

“Oh… goodbye…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were waiting for more info on what's up with Chara, that's probably gonna come up in the next chapter. Though you might be able to guess a lot already.


End file.
